


Moomin Learns to Cook

by orangesock



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Belly Kink, Cooking, Eating, Gen, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesock/pseuds/orangesock
Summary: Moomin is learning to cook, and he asks Snufkin to be his taste-tester...
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Moomin Learns to Cook

**Author's Note:**

> i have nothing else to say except ~~i'm sorry~~ enjoy

Snufkin was coming back from an adventure in the forest, following the winding path that led to Moominhouse and his tent, when the scent of something burning caught his nose. Suddenly alarmed, Snufkin ran as fast as he could along the path until the trees no longer obscured his view of the valley, and of Moominhouse, and then he stopped and looked around.

Although the burning smell was just getting stronger, Snufkin could not spot a fire anywhere. The forest was just as green as ever, his tent was in perfect shape, and Moominhouse was not being burned like kindling like Snufkin had feared. But upon closer inspection, it was easy to see where the smell was coming from. Smoke billowed out of Moominhouse’s chimney, blacker and sharper than usual.

Tentatively, Snufkin began the walk to Moominhouse. What had happened in the kitchen? It wasn’t like Moominmama to let things go awry. She was so good at cooking! Had there been an accident?

Snufkin soon made it to the kitchen door at the side of the house and opened it a crack to peek inside, but he began coughing when all he inhaled was smoke.

“Snufkin?” a voice from inside rasped. It sounded like Moomin, if Moomin had a nicotine addiction. “Open the door wider!”

Snufkin did, without hesitation. He found a big rock and placed it in front of the door to keep it open while the smoke was vented out. Moomin ran out of the kitchen, coughing and heaving.  


“Are you alright, Moomin?” Snufkin asked.  


Moomin looked up at his friend, his hands on his knees. “Oh, yes, I’m fine.”  


“Whatever happened?” Snufkin wondered. “Was there a fire?”  


“Yes,” Moomin nodded. “I’m trying to learn to cook, you see, and I’m afraid I’m not very good at it. I must have put the bread in the oven for too long– it caught on fire! This is quite a lot of smoke for one little loaf!”  


“Indeed it is,” Snufkin said. “But keep trying, Moomin. Cooking is a good skill to have. You can’t rely on Moominmamma and Snorkmaiden forever, after all.”  


“I know, I know. That’s exactly why I’m learning! When all this smoke clears out, I’ll try again. I’m trying to make spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread!”  


“Oh, how nice,” Snufkin smiled. Then he said something he would soon come to regret. “I’d like to try your cooking sometime, Moomin.”  


“Oh, would you?” Moomin cried. Snufkin nodded. “That’s great! You’ll be my taste-tester then! I’ll come get you when I’ve finished making the meal!”  


Snufkin smiled at Moomin’s excitement. Who would’ve known the little troll had a passion for cooking? “I’ve got to be off now, but I’ll see you later!”  


“You won’t be seeing me until I have a plate full of spaghetti for you!” Moomin cried as Snufkin walked off.

Later, as Snufkin was relaxing by the stream, laying back with his hat over his face and his fishing line cast downstream, he was startled to hear Moomin calling his name. Snufkin sat up abruptly, his hat falling into his lap.  


“Snuuufkiiin!” Moomin cried as he ran the last few steps to the bank of the stream. “I did it! It’s all ready! Come eat!”  


“But I–” Snufkin gestured weakly to his fishing pole, but realized that he didn’t want to let Moomin down, and that maybe having something other than fish would be nice. “Oh, alright.”  


Snufkin stood, placing his hat back on top of his head, and stored his fishing rod safely inside his tent. Then, he joined Moomin on the path back to Moominhouse. Moomin held the door open for him, then ran ahead of him and pulled out a seat at the table. Snufkin sat down, thanking his host, and looked around. It was just the two of them. Snufkin couldn’t even hear the creaking of footsteps overhead. At least Little My wasn’t around to say anything awful and discourage Moomin from cooking.  


“I hope you’re hungry!” Moomin said as he reappeared from the kitchen, holding a plate piled with spaghetti. It was much more than Snufkin had anticipated, much more than he would usually eat in one sitting. Surely Moomin didn’t expect him to eat all of that?  


Moomin set the plate down in front of Snufkin and laid down a fork and spoon for him. “Now I’ll go get the garlic bread. But just wait, okay, I want to be there for the first bite!”  


Moomin ran into the kitchen but was back second later with a full loaf of steaming garlic bread. Snufkin blanched at the sight of it. Moomin set the plate on the table and sat down across from Snufkin.  


“Well? Go ahead!”  


Slowly, Snufkin picked up his fork and spoon and placed a small swirl of spaghetti into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and considered.  


“Well?” Moomin urged, on the edge of his seat.  


“It’s really not bad,” Snufkin said. “It’s not bad at all. In fact, I quite like it.”  


“Yes!” Moomin whooped. “Oh, Snufkin, I’m so happy! You can have all the rest. I’ll make more for everyone for dinner tonight!”  


_All the rest…_ Snufkin looked down at the massive pile of spaghetti and bread in front of him and wondered if Moomin had any idea how much food this was. On one hand, Snufkin knew he was going to eat himself sick if he did what Moomin wanted. But on the other, he had never been allowed, nay, encouraged, to eat this much before in his life. He wondered what it felt like to have more than enough. So he began to eat.  


“Oh dear, you probably need water and a napkin,” Moomin said, and he ran to get them. When he returned, he set the water down on the table. “Oh, you’re such a messy eater,” Moomin giggled upon seeing Snufkin’s face. He dabbed at Snufkin’s mouth despite his friend’s protests until he was all clean. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have done that… there’s still plenty more to go. I’m glad you enjoy it, Snufkin. I’m so wonderfully happy! My first home cooked meal!”  


“Don’t… don’t you want any?” Snufkin asked. He was already beginning to feel full, and he wasn’t even halfway done.  


“Oh, no,” Moomin said. “I’m far too scared, and anyway, I had plenty of jam to snack on while I was cooking. It’s okay, you go ahead. I’ll taste it after I get everyone else’s opinions.”  


Snufkin huffed quietly, but carried on eating, deciding it was better to just get this over with as quickly as possible. When he was about halfway done with the spaghetti, Snufkin sat back and sighed softly. His belly felt tight and overly-full. He would be sick if he carried on eating, but if he didn’t, Moomin’s feelings would be hurt.  


“What’s wrong, Snufkin?” Moomin asked, poking his head out of the kitchen. His eyes grew wide with fear. “...Do you not like it after all?”  


“No, no, I do,” Snufkin said. “It’s just… a lot. Are you sure you don’t want any?”  


“You hate it so much you can’t even finish it?” Moomin asked, his voice wavering.  


“No!” Snufkin cried, sitting up. “It’s good, Moomin. Really! I’m just getting a bit full is all.”  


“Well that shouldn’t matter if it’s so good,” Moomin huffed, speaking from his own experience of stuffing himself with jam earlier in the kitchen.  


Snufkin took another bite of the spaghetti as Moomin watched, and grabbed for a piece of garlic bread. Satisfied, Moomin went back to the kitchen. When he was gone, Snufkin let out a sigh of relief, a small burp escaping with it. Snufkin covered his mouth in surprise and looked down at the food before him. He had to finish it now. There was no getting out of it. Snufkin shoved another piece of bread into his mouth. This was going to hurt.  


It took quite some time for Snufkin to finish off the bread, and his stomach was aching badly by the end. It had stretched as he ate, and was now lightly pressing against his smock. Snufkin tried to take a deep breath to steel himself, but found that it was more difficult than he had anticipated it to be. He had never been this full before, and the idea that he was about to be even fuller was appalling. But he had to. For Moomin. But he also wanted this to be over as soon as possible. So before his resolve could crumble, Snufkin began to shovel spaghetti into his mouth. His pacing slowed after a few big bites, his body becoming tired from the food and exertion, but Snufkin pushed through.  


Snufkin took his last bite, leaving just a few noodles on the plate, and wiped his face clean. He rested his hands on his protruding belly, shocked at how big it looked. He pressed a finger against it, but it only gave a little, and caused a small burp to slip out of him. His stomach gurgled in disagreement. It pressed against his waistband and Snufkin knew unbuttoning his pants would relieve some of the pressure, but that was going too far. Snufkin rubbed his belly, trying to focus on breathing. It was hard, when his lungs were squished. Snufkin supposed that if he were able, this is what he would look like at a few months pregnant. Did pregnancy feel like this? And if so, how did Mymblemamma do it?  


Moomin was still in the kitchen, cooking away. Snufkin didn’t want Moomin to see him like this. He had time to get away. If he stayed, who knows what else Moomin would try to force him to eat? Snufkin tried to stand, but found himself falling right back down into the chair. He tried again, slower this time, leaning forward for balance and pushing off the chair. He lifted more easily this time, though still unsteadily, and he was surprised at the feeling of his belly against his thighs. It was something he had never felt before, and once again the pressure on his stomach forced a burp out of him. Snufkin covered his mouth just in time to muffle it– he was trying to be quiet, after all. He knew Moomin would be hurt by his disappearance, but it couldn’t be helped. And besides, he had eaten all the food. He just had to get out of here before Moomin asked more of him.  


Once he was up, Snufkin made his way to the front door. He opened it quietly, cursing its creaking, and then he was on his way. A nap in the sunlight sounded nice, so Snufkin walked deep into the forest, his eyes drooping and belly aching, to find a nice warm patch of grass to lay on.  


Just before he could pass out, Snufkin found the perfect spot to nap in. He laid himself down heavily and stretched himself out before curling around his belly and falling into a blissful sleep.  


When he awoke, the daylight was just beginning to fade, and so was his stomach. It was a bit smaller and a bit softer, but still far too large and uncomfortable. Snufkin pushed himself up into a sitting position, very aware of the extra weight, and yawned. He supposed it was time to go back to his tent to hide out.  


He made his way through the forest at a leisurely pace. There was no one in sight, no sound but the birds and the wind rustling through the leaves. When Snufkin finally got back to his tent, he found three picnic baskets sitting just outside. He crouched to examine them, spotting a piece of paper taped to the top of one. He picked it up and began to read.  


****

****

**I know you need your space, so here are the pastries I made today! Eat them while they’re fresh! Please tell me what you think! I’ll be back around to get your feedback soon!  
** **Love, Moomin <3  
**

Snufkin’s breath hitched in his throat. He was still so full– how was he going to eat all of these before Moomin came back? How long ago had he left them? Snufkin glanced around to make sure the coast was clear and then dragged the baskets into the tent. He opened the first one and was immediately met with a sweet and tantalizing aroma. It smelled a lot like Moominmamma’s tea time pastries, the ones he could never resist. Snufkin’s mouth was practically watering as he reached in to grab one. Before he could even think, Snufkin shoved it in his mouth. The pastry was buttery, the frosting sweet, and it was filled with strawberry jam. A low moan escaped from Snufkin as he swallowed it down. He was almost disappointed that it was already over until he realized he had three whole picnic baskets practically overflowing with pastries. Before Snufkin could stop and think, he dug in.  


Halfway through the first basket, the pastries started to catch up to him. He was even more full than he had been after Moomin’s meal. His stomach hurt and he felt a bit sick, but the pastries were delicious and he had to finish them before Moomin arrived, so Snufkin pushed through. He shoved pastry after pastry into his mouth, chewing frantically. They all tasted so delicious! Had Moominmamma had a hand in this?  


Snufkin was positively stuffed by the time he got to the third basket. He was panting heavily and leaning back on his arms, unsure if he could even continue. His smock was drawn tight as a drum around his round belly and the pressure was beginning to get uncomfortable. Snufkin reached behind him and began to undo the buttons one by one until he could take the smock off and toss it to the side. Snufkin couldn’t see the upper part of his thighs or the lower part of his belly, but he could feel that his shirt had become untucked and was riding up. Snufkin tried to tug it back down, but it hardly budged. He had become too big for his shirt.  


Snufkin leaned forward to grab the last basket, and pulled it toward him. His belly protruded between his criss-crossed legs as he did. Snufkin opened the basket and continued to stuff his face with the last of the pastries, focusing on the sweetness, focusing on getting it done, until suddenly, a great pressure was released from his belly and something small went flying across the tent, hit the wall, and fell to the ground. Snufkin reached down with a greasy and frosting-covered hand to feel for his waistband, which seemed to no longer be hugging his belly and hips. Had he just popped a button? Snufkin stared at the small button on the ground in disbelief. Well… he could fix it later. Right now he had a job to finish.  


Snufkin managed to shove the last of the pastries into his drooling maw and swallow them down. At this point, he could hardly move. His shirt only managed to cover about half of his belly now, the normally loose hem almost digging into his skin. He had never been so stuffed. Snufkin laid down, now unable to fully curl around himself, and drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to the sound of Moomin calling his name.  


“Snufkin? Are you in there? Did you eat my pastries?”  


Snufkin just offered a sleepy grunt in reply. Moomin took that as an invitation to come in, and Snufkin could do nothing to protest it. Moomin lifted the tent flap and crawled inside, only to stop dead once his eyes landed on Snufkin. Moomin’s eyes grew wide at the sight of him, his belly expanded far past its usual limits, his eyes droopy, his lips coated in glaze. There was nothing Moomin could do to hide his blush. It didn’t feel right to leave Snufkin alone in this condition, so Moomin crawled further into the tent and placed a soft hand on Snufkin’s belly.  


“Oh my,” Moomin whispered. “...Maybe I overdid it with the cooking and baking. Sorry, Snufkin.”  


“S’okay,” Snufkin slurred. “They were really good. Good job.”  


“I’m glad! Now you look more like a Moomin,” Moomin said, “as all creatures should, in my opinion. All round and, well, hopefully you’ll become softer. But I like it. Do you?”  


Snufkin just moaned in reply. Moomin rubbed the incapacitated Snufkin’s belly, and as he did he decided that this was a side of Snufkin he quite liked. Perhaps he should get on with his cooking so Snufkin could try more of it…


End file.
